


An Old Friend

by orphan_account



Series: Through the Veil [1]
Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Ghosts, Reader you have issues I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:15:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22538413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: You've always seen death and violence everywhere you go. Visions of horribly mutilated ghosts are just another everyday sight to you. Nothing about it shakes you- death is always two steps behind or ahead, never really a tangible risk, but always present.Until one day, you meet a man who radiates death and violence, who is very much alive.Strade/Reader. Minor gendered German toward reader (F), otherwise GN.
Relationships: Strade (BTD/TNR)/Reader
Series: Through the Veil [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621714
Comments: 4
Kudos: 86





	An Old Friend

The first time you saw a ghost, you were seven years old. She was a college girl, killed in a collision with a drunk driver, and her head was split with a crack so deep you could see her skull.

You’d shrieked, running to your mother and father, inconsolable and horrified. Once the ghost has realized you could see her, she followed you around for weeks, begging for you to contact her family.

Now, on the rare occasions where you were confronted by a spirit, you just tried to ignore them. It had become routine, to see through the veil of life and death, and more often than not it just resulted in you being hounded by some desperate spirit.

Death had always followed you like a shadow. Years of gruesome visions left you desensitized to the violence of life, and to the way it bubbled just beneath the surface of everyday normality. All it took, you knew, was just a slight chance, and you could be met with that same violence. 

The man who’d been mauled by a bear had just gone out for an afternoon hike. The woman who’d slipped and cut her throat open had been on her way to work. All it took was an unlucky day, and Death and Agony could jump out from behind the curtain yelling “surprise!” to you too. And then it’s _memento mori, so long and goodnight._

It would happen, sooner or later to everyone. You’d stopped being upset and angry about it after your teenage years. Now, you just felt bored with it, as though you’d been standing on the precipice of a cliff for years just waiting to fall off.

“That’ll be $14.75,” you drawled, bored.

For now, you rang up purchases at the hardware store, counting the minutes until your next break. You’d just started this job two weeks ago, and already you were thinking of quitting.

You fantasized about being on a talk show as the customer waved his debit card at the reader. _And our next guest can see the spirits of the dead! What do they tell you?_

_(Well, actually, nothing. Mostly they just scream!)_

“Long day, Freundin?” The voice of the next customer asked, heavily-accented and cheerful.

You looked up at him, and the hair on your arms stood on end in goosebumps. Your heart began to hammer, wildly and in an uncontrolled terror, and you swallowed, hard. It reminded you of the first time you’d seen a ghost. Suddenly you were seven again, staring Death in the face.

On the surface, the man looked normal enough. It wouldn’t even be much of a stretch to call him handsome, with his shaggy brown hair, tanned skin, and the dusting of scruff across his jaw. He looked strong, and confident, and he grinned broadly at you with a practiced social ease.

“Uh,” you answered intelligently, the alarm bells still blaring in your mind. You watched his eyes narrow, and the edge of his grin twitch.

“Cat got your tongue?” He asked, peering at you curiously. You struggled, attempting to appear nonchalant.

“Sorry, you just look like an old friend,” You replied. 

You took a moment to look at the man critically, trying to figure what it was about him that set off your nerves. It wasn’t that he was overtly threatening, though every second he stood at your register you felt threatened. It wasn’t that he was a ghost- obviously, he was taking the items from his basket and putting them on the checkout belt.

He just felt... like _death, violence, pain_ . When you looked at him, it was like it buzzed through him, electric and tangible. A life wire waiting to shock you. _It’s like he’s an artist of it,_ your brain attempted, unhelpfully, to supply.

“Yeah, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” He replied lightly, “Unless that was a pickup line?” Was this _Death-Man_ teasing you? Does he _know_? You felt the heat rise in your cheeks in spite of yourself, and you quietly began to ring up his purchases, looking away.

Rope. A box of nails. Electric wiring. Zip ties. _What the fuck?_ You tried to move quickly.

“Your total is $52.85.” You told him once you’d finished. As the man handed over money to pay, he leaned in closer, curiosity evidently sparked by your odd reaction to him.

“Hey, buddy. You’re new here, right?” He asked, voice low and almost conspiratorial. “I come here every so often, but I haven’t seen you around before.” You watched him take a measured, obvious look at your name tag. “Anyway, nice to meet you! I’m sure you’ll see me again."

You forced a smile, wondering if he was doing the same or whether his smile came naturally.

“Yeah, likewise. Have a great one.” 

When he left, bags in his arms, you let out a shaky breath, letting relief flood you. As you continued with your day, the panic you’d felt seemed more and more like a memory, and by the time you went home, you dismissed it as an overreaction.

Maybe you were just tired. You hadn’t actually _seen_ any ghosts. Maybe he had one tied to him, or something? Maybe he was like you, and he could see spirits?

That night, you dreamt of howling pain. You shook and seized in your sleep as you saw blood, blood, blood. Torrents of it, flowing in a deep and endless river, coursing in your ears. You heard laughing in your head, and you knew it was the man from the store. 

You woke covered in slick sweat, trembling for only a single quiet moment before you burst into tears.

\--

It was only a week and a half before you saw the man again, and when you did, he wasn’t alone.

There was a woman with him. A spirit, you deduced, from the bloodied, gaping holes where her eyes had been. She flickered like a poorly transmitted signal, and you watched as she followed the man around the store, with him none the wiser.

You decided, against your better judgement, to approach. You’ve never hesitated to stare death in the face and look at it for what it is before, so why start now?

“Hey. Do you need any help?” You asked, eyes inevitably sliding to the spirit of the woman who lingered.

She was in a rough shape. Upon closer look, her nails had been pulled from her fingers, and the left side of her face was so badly bruised you suspected some of her skull may have collapsed. Her lips were red with blood, her chest stained with it, and of course, her eyes seemed to have been forcibly removed. 

Even without the eyes, she recognized that you saw her. A horrible, garbled sound came from her throat, like she was choking through water. The man said something in return, smiling, but you were focused on the woman.

“What did you say?” You asked to her, chasing the mystery. She said it again, one syllable, screamed from a ragged throat.

_Ss... St. Stay? Stray? No. Think. S-T-R-A... but then a hard noise._

“Strayed?” You repeated back, confused. At your voice, the man took a step toward you, recapturing your attention.

“You know my name?” He asked, his eyes are alight with interest and his attention trained on you like you’re a puzzle to be solved. You glanced from the woman, to him, and then back to the woman. It hit you then, obviously, why he reeked of Death.

Your eyes were as wide as saucers as you looked at him. You took a step back, away from him. Oh, that had been a mistake. _Whoops._

“Your name is Strade?” You replied, voice tense. He nods, once, also confused. 

“What do you keep looking at?” He asked you impatiently, looking to where the woman stood, wailing. Looking through her.

Nausea rolled through you, with fear in toe, and you soaked in it. Death, at your door. Death, knocking. _Hello, it’s me again!_

If your suspicions were right... Your own curiosity burned. You wanted to know for sure, to see his reaction.

“It’s a woman.” You replied, pointing to her. You were suddenly very cognizant of the fact that the two of you were standing in a Hardware Store aisle at 11:15 in the morning. “Long blonde hair, not wearing much. Her eyes are gone. The left side of her face is fucked. Her fingernails are missing, and she’s screaming a lot.” The wailing was starting to give you a headache. “Know anything about it?”

The man- _Strade-_ looked at you, agape. Now _his_ eyes were the ones as wide as saucers. He took a step back, looking you up and down.

“Es ist nicht möglich,” He muttered under his breath, and you had to fight back a smile. He’d gone a bit pale, but his hands didn’t shake and he didn’t appear afraid. Just shocked. 

“Did you do it?” You couldn’t shut up, the words tumbling forward. Your heart was pounding, blood in your ears. _DANGER, DANGER, YOU DUMB MOTHERFUCKER_. “I mean, I see dead people a fair bit. But you’re the first person I’ve met that... carries it on you like a musk. Is that because you did that to her?”

Strade stared back at you. And then he began to laugh.

“Sehr gut! Very fun trick! But if you really think that-” He leaned in, voice low and nearly a growl, “-don’t you think that was pretty stupid of you to tell me?” Strade’s eyes flashed with something predatory, and it was your first peak at the violence you had felt lurking inside him. It bristled, coming to life, _excited_ by you.

The spirit moaned in suffering. You were so close to it, to the violence and death that had followed you all your life at a distance. Now it had teeth. Now it was threatening you, alive and sharp. It could hurt you.

You thought that you might throw up, equal parts terrified and exhilarated by it. You wet your lips.

“Maybe,” You replied. “Yeah, probably.” You take a step back. “But not much you can do about it here, in broad daylight. Maybe I’ll head into the back room and call the cops. An anonymous tip? I have your name, and what you look like. It could be a lot of trouble for you.”

His eyes darkened, and darted around the store. “You don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” 

“By the time they’d find you, dummes mädchen, it’d be too late.”

You hummed thoughtfully, considering your options. You really should run as fast as you could to the back room, call the cops, and hide. At this point, you were pretty sure your instincts were right- he had killed the woman, and that this was a violent, dangerous man. He was probably hurting (and killing?) real, innocent people. People who lived their lives happily, blissfully unaware.

And even if everyone died in the end, not everyone had to _suffer,_ not the way the spirit beside you clearly had.

But you almost felt... outside of yourself. Like it wasn’t truly real, like the consequences wouldn’t matter. Your curiosity raged. You wanted a taste of it. You wanted to face this ugly thing head on, and not look away.

You shrugged.

“Maybe. I’m sure I’ll see you again, Strade.” 

You quit your job at the hardware store that day, and the ghost of the woman followed you all the way home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Might eventually do a Lawrence/Reader with a similar concept. Not sure if this is a stand alone or part of a series yet! 
> 
> Let me know if you enjoy <3


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